He covered his face with both hands, and the last words died in a sob; then he felt a hand touch his arm gently.
"The brand is extinguished with the name Rojanow. Throw that from you, Hartmut; I bring you what you tried in vain to obtain--entrance into the army!"
Hartmut started and gazed at her in unbelief.
"Impossible! How could you----"
"Take these papers," interrupted Adelaide, drawing forth a package. "They are made out in the name of Joseph Tanner 29 years old, slender, with dark complexion, black hair and eyes--you see everything will suit--with these nobody will refuse you an entrance as a volunteer."
She gave him the papers, around which his right hand closed spasmodically as upon the most precious jewel.
"And these papers?" he asked, still doubting.
"Belong to a dead man. They were given me for another purpose, but the deceased has no further use for them and will pardon me if with them I save a living man."
Hartmut stormily opened the package. The wind almost tore the sheets from his hand and he was scarcely able to decipher the contents as the young widow continued:
"Joseph Tanner had a small office at Ostwalden, when seized with a hemorrhage this morning. He had but a few hours to live and gave me his last words and mementos for his mother. The poor woman shall receive everything--every letter, every scrap which can be a solace to her, but I have taken the official papers--for you. We do not rob anybody in doing this, for they are valueless to the mother to whom they now belong. Perhaps a strict judge would call that deceit, but I gladly shoulder the blame, and God will pardon it, and so will the fatherland."